Tuesday, 30 October 2012

The Wildness of Things.

I began this post a week or so back, a post about the arrival of autumn, of the sudden profusion of posts online about leaves and rain and weather of all sorts, of lighting fires and digging out ones winter woolies, and the pleasure of it all. But now, in the midst of Sandy, that part of what I wanted to say all seems so irrelevant. Of course we have not been affected by it here, but I am put in mind of the times we do experience the Wildness of Things, and how it shakes us to our bones, reduces us to the tiny things we are in the grander scale of bigger things, and just how vulnerable we truly are when nature rages and heaves itself up out of its bed, and towers over us so terrifyingly.
Here in this little temperate island of ours, storms on the scale of what the US is experiencing right now are extremely rare, but living practically on the beach, and with our house at sea level, it is something I think about on a regular basis during winter months, when we lie awake in bed, our little house rocked by howling winds as the sea booms and thunders outside the windows.

As I sat up stitching, into the small hours last night, I was thinking about my sister in Virginia, and all those people out there who are being affected by the storm.
Times like this, things have a way of slipping neatly into perspective, don't they?
At the moment Jay is away again, this time he is down under in Sydney, and as per usual there has been the usual litany of minor 'disasters'.
Car trouble, check, internet gone, check, people sick, check, cold snap and no fuel brought in, check.
But as I said, everything is in perspective, and my inner Pollyanna is well and healthy.
And so, in the midst of all this stress and mayhem I sit and stitch, and count my blessings as I do, forever grateful for this moderate, nonextreme country I have found myself in.

And here is what I have been working on while Holding The Fort (I do like that expression!)
Inspired by the looming winter months filled with nights I have just described, this little piece has, as usual, taken forever to finish.
I have this notion that if I ever actually take to making things on my machine then I'll get loads done, but that is not likely to happen any time soon, and anyway, is likely to be a complete fallacy. I hand make my small things because usually, my studio is my car, or my kitchen table, in between a myriad of other appointments and tasks throughout my day. They are made, literally a stitch at a time, and at times it feels like a meditation, at others like a muse, with ideas flowing through my head as I work, stories unfolding in a dreamlike manner, hints and voices and realisations, all tumble together into a tangled weave of something with potential.

So I stitch and sew in the dark hours, and I send heartfelt thoughts and wishes to all and any of you who have been affected by the weather these last few days.
May whatever help you need come your way on swiftly wings, and with it the return of things to As They Should Be.


Mairéad said...

I really like your little embroidered picture and the different threads you use.
Yes, we do like to complain about the weather in Ireland and while it's often dreary it isn't usually life threatening for which we should be thankful.

Ciara Brehony said...

Thanks so much, Mairéad! I really enjoyed making it. I have such a love for threads, but I simply had to use up some of my stash before the Knitting & Stitching Show this coming weekend when I KNOW I'll be buying more!

Acornmoon said...

We are lucky indeed to have found ourselves in a moderate climate. Every now and then we get a taster of how fierce nature can be and living by the sea must reinforce that.

I love your hand made stitched art, it would not have the same feel done on a machine.


Hello Ciara
Just stopping by, whilst I'm in Stockholm visiting my big girly :D.
A very though provoking post...I have family in Virginia too and friends in NYC, and fortunately we were able to stay in contact via FB updates...
LOVE your stitched works of art, beautiful.
Thank you always for you kind words of encouragement life is a whirlwind at the moment, but actually feel more grounded and focused than I ever have been...once I gather my strength from all around it really is 1 step forward 10 steps back...but on that small step forward each time I feel incredibly strong.

Mimi said...

Ciara, I am in awe of your talent. Really. The mix of stitches and fabrics in this piece is just beautiful. And then I realised there was a story there too! Wow! I too love fabrics and stitches, and there is something so much better about doing it by hand (apart altogether from the practicalities!), it's as though it's totally yours, with no interference.
I agree with your view on the Irish weather, isn't everything relative. Hope all your loved ones stay safe.
Happy Hallowe'en!

Half-heard in the Stillness said...

Ooh this is Lovely! Not only are you a talented writer....!!

Hugs Jane

Kerry O'Gorman said...

Oh, I feel the vulnerability in that little hare and the positive hope in the dragonfly. Such lovely work when you fit it in.
Glad to hear your sister is fine. Right now on the West side of the continent we are having rain, rain and more rain.
An earthquake shook some northern islands a few days ago but luckily all is fine and we didn't feel it.

Cliona O'Flaherty said...

Ciara, this is so gorgeous. Poor rabbit! All alone at sea. Love it.

Imen said...

How lovely....I have just discovered your blog via Kimberley Taylor Images...and what a wonderful discovery it is! x

Ciara Brehony said...

Only catching up here now, thank you all for your lovely comments. I am thoroughly enjoying branching out away from my redwork for a while. The mind races with possibilities! Hoping to have more to show you in the next little while.
Thanks for the encouragement!

Gray said...

Love it.

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